Those Awkward Moments
by pIcKinGBloOdyrOSes
Summary: ... where Francis make more of a fool of himself then usual. One-Shot AU. Spamano, Onesided!FrUK, and England X ?


**A/N: Seriously, I have no idea where this came from. My original plan was to do a one-shot series based solely on awkward moments, but it's a project I really don't have time for, at least until school's out for the summer.**

**So this very strange, badly-written one-shot was born.**

**Disclaimer: I am as likely to own Hetalia as Russia is to never say "da" again.**

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**Those Awkward Moments**

Francis Bonnefoy had some fond memories of his first ever high school boyfriend, Arthur Kirkland.

They weren't all particularly fond of course, as they were no longer together and the break-up itself had involved the throwing of a hair dryer and a brief blackout in the boys dormitory at the prestigious private school they had attended.

But still. Francis was proud to say he was present for the first time Arthur received a cell phone ("I very well bloody know how to turn it on!"), had the pleasure of holding his hand when they watched "_Titanic_" together (Arthur had even cried on his shoulder), and was there whenever he felt like ranting about his roommate, Alfred F. Jones ("That foolish, imprudent, cocky, no-good, impatient, obnoxious _boy!_").

Yet something always bothered Francis. In every relationship he'd ever had, no matter how long or how brief, he had always managed to kiss his partner. Sometimes it was a peck, sometimes a long, sensual make-out session, and sometimes it was just plain old sex. Each and every time there was some sort of lip-action and it was actually something he prided himself on.

So the man's pride really couldn't take knowing that his lips had never once come in contact with his very first high-school freshman boyfriend, other then maybe a tiny little brush on his hand.

And that didn't count.

It had come close though, and Francis could remember it clearly. They were in the common room sitting on the loveseat together while Arthur did his homework and Francis played with a strand of his blonde hair. The Brit kept telling him to stop so he could concentrate on his algebra, but Francis had begun to feel that their relationship was... dawdling. What better way to give it a push in the right direction (meaning the bedroom) then by hurrying up with the first kiss they had yet to share?

"Mmm, Arthurrr..." Francis had leaned against the smaller boy's shoulder and rested his head in the dip between his collarbone and neck. "Can't we do something else?"

"I'm working," Arthur told him, shoving him away with a frown. "Leave me alone; I need to get this paper done."

"But you've been working on it for hours,_ mon ami_," Francis purred, snuggling up against him. "It's not healthy to work this long without a break."

"It's due tomorrow," Arthur leaned away. "I need to finish it."

"Aw..." Francis pouted and noticed Alfred in the corner with Kiku with a bunch of manga scattered around them looking over curiously. Hmm. He'd give them a show... "Just a tiny break? _Oui?_"

Arthur hesitated before setting the paper down on the table in front of them. "Three minutes."

Francis squealed in delight and threw his arms around Arthur, who grumbled in annoyance but settled against his chest. He smirked slightly. Perfect. One hand came up to pet Arthur's hair down while the other snaked around his torso to hold him a bit closer. "Things are hard for you right now, no?"

"Mmph," Arthur grunted and shifted slightly. "You have no bloody idea. Student council decided to dump all sort of projects on me at the last minute and expect me to have it all done by the end of the week, the teachers are demanding all this work from me, and I won't even tell you how terribly awful it is being a hall monitor on a Friday, when everyone is completely rowdy and riled up for the weekend..."

Arthur did end up talking about it, and Francis zoned out, nodding and saying words of encouragement now and then, but concentrating more on the pale, smooth cheek in front of his face and how much he'd enjoy kissing it, and then making his way around to his lips. Oh yes, that would make anyone watching insanely jealous, and then he'd take it just a bit further, and of course Arthur would be left breathless because he was an amazing kisser after all, and either they'd go to his room and continue their little adventure or-

"What are you doing?"

Francis blinked. Arthur had turned his head to look at him; evidently he had asked a question and not gotten a response. "_Pardon_, I wasn't paying attention..."

Arthur frowned a bit, and Francis leaned forward, unable to take it any longer. He went slow, his lips nearly touching Arthur's, the green eyes watching him widening in wonder and insecurity-

Wait, what?

"Francis, no," Arthur turned his head away and stood up, looking away.

"Why?" Francis gaped.

"I'm not ready," Arthur told him firmly, picked up his papers, and left Francis feeling very, very un-French. He had tried many times after that and didn't give up, but Arthur refused to give him that kiss no matter what. And his lips remained a virgin to Arthur's forevermore.

But no longer would Francis have his collection of kisses impaired, for now he was standing in the hallway of his high school for the graduating class's tenth year reunion.

And he was going to get his missing kiss.

Walking through the hallways of the school was rather nostalgic, even for someone like Francis ("Oh, look, the closet where I lost my virginity"), and he passed by a few familiar faces who shook his hand and smiled graciously at them, though he really was looking for Arthur. The Frenchman paused outside of the gymnasium. Perhaps Arthur would be in there...

"Francis, _mi amigo_!"

He knew that voice. Francis turned around to see to his great delight his old friend Antonio Carriedo, walking towards him a gleaming smile on his face. "Antonio! Oh, _bonjour_!"

They embraced, laughing, and Antonio pulled back, olive green eyes searching his face. "My friend, you have not changed a bit!"

Francis grinned at him. The Spaniard was taller then he remembered him to be their senior year of school, his hair curlier and longer, and his jaw a bit more square. He was handsome, Francis thought to himself. Very much so... "Neither have you, my dear Antonio."

"Ah, allow me to introduce you to someone important to me," Antonio seemed to pull a person out of thin air. "This is my lovely boyfriend, Lovino Vargas! He came with me today!"

The young man had a sour expression which Francis thought was a pity, as he had a very cute face framed with dark auburn hair that made his golden-hazel eyes pop in a very beautiful sort of way. "Humph."

"Ah, nice to meet you," Francis didn't bother offering a handshake- Lovino looked ready to bite his hand if he tried. "Tell me, Antonio, have you seen Arthur?"

"Arthur Kirkland?" Antonio made a face. "_Si. _He's in the gymnasium. Why would you want to see him?"

But Francis was already inside the gym. He strode inside with great purpose, noting the plastic tables set up with punch and cheap wine and cookies and little spoiled bits of cheese and crackers... yuck, and glided through the people milling around laughing and talking, hoping to see that messy blonde hair he remembered so often as his one regret in life. Tsk. He stood on his toes and looked above the crowd in a vain attempt to pick out the grumpy Brit.

And should good fortune have it, he spotted him.

Arthur Kirkland certainly hadn't changed much. He hadn't gotten much taller, but he had filled out slightly; the scrawny, gangly high scholar Francis remembered no longer existed, and to the Frenchman's great surprise, he actually looked rather good. Slender, but healthy. Maybe actually handsome. Of course, his eyebrows were still very dark and very... _full. _But Francis found that they actually had come to accent his green eyes, almost making them glow.

And was he... smiling?

Good gracious, Francis must have missed out on a lot.

Well, Francis wasn't going to simply stand there, so he made his way over, ducking past a few people in his way. Arthur was standing by a food table, talking with someone Francis recognized as an older Kiku Honda, the shy Japanese boy he never really talked to in his dorm. Next to him, and holding a cookie, was none other then his old room mate he liked complaining about so much, Alfred F. Jones.

Now, Alfred F. Jones was always good-looking, but now he was movie-star handsome- almost as wonderful looking as Francis considered himself. But then again, you could hardly compare the two of them- Francis was slim and of average height, narrow hips and a well spaced torso with long, flowing blonde hair, smooth creamy skin, and light jewel blue eyes. He was what he classified as a "beautiful man". Alfred was tall and athletic, much more broad and rugged with his tanned skin, ashy blonde hair, and light blue eyes with smile-lines around the edges. He was what Francis classified as a "handsome man".

Well, this was all wonderful, but Francis' pride really couldn't take much more. He had to have this kiss. It was crucial to his existence as a man, and sometimes you just can't argue with manliness. He plowed through the crowd of people and marched right up to Arthur. Kiku saw him first and bowed in greeting, causing Arthur to turn to see who was behind him.

"Arthur Kirkland!"

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but really, Francis _was_French. So he grabbed his shoulders and kissed him right then and there.

It was truly one of the strangest things Francis had ever experienced. He was very used to kissing someone and being kissed back, because he was good at it for one, and usually the people he kissed wanted the action. So gripping a very stiff, very unmoving Englishman while pressing his lips against his as hard and sensually as he could with the other keeping his mouth firmly closed and in a straight line was new. And weird.

He didn't like it.

But no matter! The deed was done! Francis' goal was complete. He drew back, letting Arthur go, a very satisfied expression on his face.

"So _there!_" Francis smiled victoriously.

The Brit stared at him for a moment, looking a bit undecided. Francis waited patiently. Was he going to be yelled at, or asked to be taken to a hotel, or what? Anything could happen now, and Francis couldn't have been much happier.

"Francis Bonneyfoy," Arthur finally said, crossing his arms. "... I would like you to reintroduce you someone you already know… my husband, Alfred F. Jones."

...

Ah.

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**HAHAHA. Gawd, I love USUK. I also love France, just NEVER with England. Sorry FrUK peeps, but USUK FTW!**

**Read and review please! And I'm gonna spam you- go read some of my other, much better written stuff if you liked this even a little bit.**


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